


Target Acquisition

by YogurtTime



Category: Japanese Actor RPF, Johnny's Entertainment, KAT-TUN (Band)
Genre: F/M, Fingerfucking, Het, Sex, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-05
Updated: 2012-01-05
Packaged: 2019-02-14 23:40:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13018656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YogurtTime/pseuds/YogurtTime
Summary: Maru wouldn’t just let anyone hold his Spring Magnum. He is, after all, agentleman.





	Target Acquisition

**Author's Note:**

> For THE RECORD, I wrote this exactly a month before the news broke that Jin and Meisa had been together. Haha I shipped this so hard until that moment (eh I still kinda do but with Nakamaru it be like that)
> 
> Inspired from Meisa's using [survival](http://i.imgur.com/ECZqW.png) [game](http://i.imgur.com/dCNuE.png)s to vent stress (win y/y?); her surprising shyness, her loving to play in the mountains and her [adorable tank-top](http://i.imgur.com/J4nEx.png)

 

 

 

There’s a storm coming.

The slate grey clouds keep swirling like there’s more than just a light drizzle about to come down and the far off rumble says danger. The mountain air is thin even with its thick smells and Maru drops to his knees, unmindful as the wet moss seeps into the padding on his knees. These first seconds are the freefall into the sensations that mean the game has begun.

Rubber bullets, mud, trees, cries, sweat and laughter.

And Maru _loves_ this game.

He can hear the pound of boots running toward him and his heart races, acidic excitement flooding his veins as he crouches low, bends back behind the nearest tree trunk and positions his rifle’s barrel. In the wide-eyed and dirty pace of his fear, he feels invincible.

It’s aimed quick fire. Instinct and peripherals. Two men in gear run past, side stepping through the bushes, backs to Maru. It’s an awkward angle but he fires. The outraged cry lets him know he got his mark and Maru drops to his knees again, crawling with his elbows downhill, the thrill of it still shooting up his chest.

As the rain finally begins, everything goes blurry in the deep sodden green. He would’ve missed them if he hadn’t been worried that the other guy he didn’t shoot was following him, but he spots the black among the rain and leaves as he slides on his boot downhill. The enemy is wearing a helmet with a protective glass mask; dark, camo gear and expensive-looking thick-soled boots; he’s a bit on the small side so Maru knows he can overpower him as long as he can get him in range. The issue is approaching so the guy doesn’t hear him.

Stealth and strategy are two of the main reasons he’s gotten so hooked on this game. It’s different in the woods like this, though and even the steady wash of rain can’t mask his movement.

He makes it a metre within reach of his opponent when a single shift of the wind and the unfortunate noisiness of his cocked gun has the enemy whirl from his spot and aim with a pro-level speed. Maru’s first panicked instinct is to dive for the gun, which he does, but two things happen at once. One being gravity and slippery mud with the full-tilt of the mountain terrain and the other being his enemy anticipating his dive and going into a defensive crouch, gun still pointed.

What could have been a flatland struggle becomes a tumble. Arms and legs; they both clutch each other. Rocks, tree trunks, and bushes whip by in the fall and it goes by in a flash. The impact is like a bullet itself as his back strikes sodden, but still solid earth and his now partner in this all-too frightening crash, shoves the butt end of their semi-auto rifle into the mud beside his head, successfully stopping the fall. Being that it’s just an electric blowback, it cracks and snaps and the guy totters, landing right on him, straddled.

“Ugh,” he groans, rain in his eyes, buried in the warm weight of this stranger. “I think we fell quite a ways…that’s never happened before…”

He trails off as the person straddling him straightens, and he gets a proper look at the face behind the water-stained protective glass.

“Well, I guess you’ve never been tackled over the edge of a mountain trail,” she says a little woodenly, rolling off him in a swift move. Maru stares or rather squints through the rain. Dark hair, several strands wetly plastered to her temple when she removes her headset impatiently, sternly set little mouth frowning at him and black irises glaring an unmistakable fervid gaze at him.

“You!” Maru says without thinking and the “you!” named Kuroki Meisa clicks her tongue with some annoyance, pulling her hip pack around to dig through it. Her ankle looks like it’s at an odd angle with her boot turned awkwardly underneath her.

Bad way to start; he is immediately aware. “I’m so sorry. I thought …you were a man…”

A silence passes as she freezes and finally looks at him again, satire slowly curling her mouth in a queer little smile. “Are you Nakamaru Yuichi?” she asks and Maru isn’t clear on what her tone is saying about the possible reply.

He nods. His tailbone _really_ hurts. He scrambles up, wincing noticing how her eyes follow him and Maru feels a little exposed. “I’m sorry I tackled you. I’ll replace your rifle, I promise.”

With the rain now coming down in torrents, the water flying as she shakes out her hair makes little difference. “We’ll call it even since you broke our fall with your back. Do you have a phone? I think I’ve dropped mine.”

Maru wipes his eyes, he’s got mud on his fingers and her gun is definitely shattered. He’s certain he might be a little bit in shock, but there’s no way to be sure. “I don’t carry any of my stuff on me when I-- we need to get out of this rain,” he mumbles. He keeps meeting her eyes and there’s something razing velvet between them. The immediate sizzling tightness in Maru’s gut makes him try to think of banal things like stickers, rust, and the little black aglets of his shoelaces.

She hops to her feet—all limber like. Maru steadfastly looks at the colour of trampled path just beyond her left ear as he speaks. “It doesn’t look like we can get back up on the survival grounds from here. I think the town is closer.”

She nods, beginning to walk ahead. “There’s a lodge where I booked a room. We can call from there.”

Of course, he’s seen her on television, music videos, dramas; the curving line of her back as she hikes her hip pack over her shoulder makes Maru wonder how he could possibly have confused her with anyone male. Seemingly searching for his reply, she casts an arch look back at him over her shoulder and Maru clears his throat violently, disguising his stare with a quick look to the trees.

He spots the amusement in her gaze when she turns around. He picks up his feet to catch up. “Want me to hold that bag for you?” he offers, pointing at her hip pack. He is a _gentleman_ first and foremost.

“Sure,” she says surprisingly, unbuckling it and Maru holds out his hand but winds up sucking in a breath when she steps right up close to him; he registers it in a blur he won’t be able to fully recall later; the smell of her floral musk perfume, rain on her eyelashes, smudges of dirt here and there and her arms coming up over his head, tugging the strap around and clipping it snugly around his hips.

“Ah-haaa,” he says, letting out a laugh that doesn’t sound anything like his own.

She leans back. “Hey, I know we only just met but…” Her eyes flicker downward and Maru can hear his thoughts halt and then scream expletives. “You think when we get to someplace dry you could let me see your gun?”

There’s a brief, stunned moment where Maru swallows thickly, registering the fall of her hands away from him and the reality-whiplash fact that he has his remodelled handgun tucked at his waistband. She waits politely, eyeing the handle curiously.

He releases a breath when she steps back and he might as well have fallen from a great height all over again. “Yes! Yeah, of course. I-- uh-- had it remodelled a month ago.”

“Looks real,” she murmurs appreciatively, turning back to walk down the trail.

 

 

The lodge is far closer than he expected it to be and it speaks of how far they must have rolled down the mountain. The idea that he was inches from death chills Maru significantly. It’s not a big place, which presents some problems. They’re in the country and up near the mountains so the likelihood of being immediately recognised is slim, but still, being seen going into any form of lodging with Kuroki Meisa…

Maybe he’ll ask the owner for a phone instead of following her up to her room. Decorum and such. Just to be polite.

As they walk through the front doors of the lodge and Maru makes for the front desk, Meisa cuts across him and grabs his arm. “Let’s get in quick before someone sees us. You’re all soggy.”

Maru starts unlacing his boots as he tries to keep up with her going up the stairs. They’re tracking mud inside and it’s…

“Don’t worry. I have an extra t-shirt,” she offers simply over her shoulder.

Maru kicks off one boot, hopping up the last step. “Yeah, that’s _not_ what I’m worried about,” he says quickly without thinking and her laughter sends strange reverberations up his spine.

“Got a lot on your mind?” she says and Maru quite literally has no sensible, non-provocative reply for that.

They reach her door. Her smile is almost a sentence in and of itself as she moves toward him suddenly. “You have my key card.” She has no qualms about reaching right into her hip pack with him still wearing it, unearthing her key card, back of her hand brushing—through two layers of fabric but still _brushing_. Maru squints; certain it’s a mistake. People just don’t--- and she’s so beautiful.

The room is a single suite with a television and a bathroom. Judging from her small bag, she’d booked the room as a place to change afterward. He wonders how long she’s been doing this, how much she knows about guns; whether she experiences the same adrenalines, thrills; whether the chill of invincibility is what gets to her when she has a gun in her hand.

“Phone’s right there. You can call your friends to come get you, if you want.”

 _If I want_ Maru thinks and he thanks the gods of knit hats that his ears are covered because at this thought, they go hot. He turns his back to her and picks up the receiver, not really trusting himself to speak. He hears her go into the bathroom and the shower water running as he dials.

“It’s me,” he says when Koki picks up.

“Where the hell are you?! We’re dying out here, and _Taguchi’s_ giving orders!”

“I fell down the mountain…kind of. I’m at the lodge in town.”

Koki splutters and is drowned by rain as he curses creatively. In the background, the patter of rubber bullets gets louder along with Koki. Maru holds the phone away from his ear.

“Ok forget all that. Come pick me up, would you!”

“Give us an hour or so. They’ve forced us uphill and it’s hard to retaliate. We’ve been sitting here hoping you were planning some kind of a surprise attack from behind.”

“No, I’m nowhere near there. I dropped my rifle during the fall—“

“Look, man; we’ll pick you up after we die! Just wait there!”

Maru begins his protest but Koki’s already hung up as the blistering sound of more bullets crashes into the receiver.

“Dammit,” Maru mutters, replacing the receiver and removing Meisa’s hip pack and his gun belt. The enemy team had pulled a manoeuvre tactic from the beginning and if Maru had been there…

He takes off his jacket and drops into the chair by the window, guiltily watching the bathroom door, listening to the rain outside blend rakishly with the tinny sound of the shower. Maru begins to list the sub-categories of defence tactics used during the Napoleonic war. He doesn’t know them all, but trying keeps him from considering things, _impossible_ things. Maybe what one could do in an hour? Ok, possible things.

Maru grips the arm handles of his chair and remembers how her thighs had clenched on his in that bright, deadly second and the sound of her gasp when she’d fallen forward on him. His shuts his eyes and tries valiantly not. to… think.

“Hm, your turn.”

He opens his eyes and there she is with her usually hard stare squinted up with her smile. Hair caught up in a tidier ponytail, stepping out of a steaming bathroom in jeans and a tank-top that reads, “I like nice boys” stretched across her chest in English. He smiles back without thinking and even the sudden demure as she looks away renders his words extinct.

This whole thing is very problematic.

Maru gets up. Just making it across the room to her is difficult in and of itself. She doesn’t move and her breathing seems visible, chest slowly rising and falling. He doesn’t even make it within a centimetre of her and he can feel heat. Odd magnetism. Their eyes meet and her lips part, body mirroring the same jolting unease he feels as her lips then compress with sudden uncertainty.

“I’ll…just go in there,” he says, pointing at the bathroom.

“Yes,” she replies instantly, almost overlapping him, eyes darting away again and Maru holds his breath as he sidesteps her to get into the bathroom, unconsciously raises his arms in a deliberate non-touching gesture.

He leans his head against the door when he gets it closed, sighing. What on earth was that? Well, of course he gets it. Chemistry, as it is, is simple but to quite literally feel like he’s being pulled into some kind of gravitation makes it less simple to counteract. Of course it isn’t right for him to act on it. No, he’s not an animal, he thinks as he turns on the tap.

Cold water; cold, calming, _icy_ water.

It beats down on his hair and back. He’d swim in her scents and run fingers along her silk if he could; if she’d just keep looking at him like that. She’s curious about him too, probably out there wondering why he’s such a visible head case. And here he is, silently serenading to the idea of her naked thighs under his hands.

 

When he opens the door, clean, towel-drying his hair and breathing normally again, his mind is made up. He’ll ask for a shirt, thank her politely, get her number so he can replace her gun at a later date and then go wait downstairs before he says or _does_ something that’ll make him look like a complete tool.

That was the plan.

However, when he steps into the room, her back is to him, occupied with what appears to be his gun. “It’s really well put together; the barrel tip is black and it’s heavy. A point forty-four Magnum Spring…right?” she says absently.

She knows her weaponry. Something goes tight in his stomach again.

At his silence, she turns, half-smiling, visibly and quickly registering his shirtless state. “Sorry, you don’t seem the type that just lets _anyone_ touch his gun.”

Maru walks toward her, folding the towel. “Neither do you.”

Her eyelashes are quite long, Maru notices as he steps up beside her and her shoulders shake with her laugh as she mimes pointing the gun out the window. What he just said must’ve amused her a great deal…

“I could get you the same one, if you want.”

Meisa turns properly, trigger looped around her finger as she rests the heel of her hand against the table, head tilted back to survey Maru. “I’d like that; thank you.”

He has to reach past her, lean in to grab his jacket. He’ll button it up and forget the shirt; this is becoming just _excruciating_. “So I should…umm…” Her throat’s pulse seems to be gravely in tune to his proximity. Her gaze dances, searching his expression with clear calculation, which Maru keeps carefully neutral. “I should…” He tries again.

Her lips are so pink and the way she’s pressed back against the table, top riding up her stomach and jeans hugging her angular hips.

She sucks in her lower lip pensively, eyebrows curving downward suddenly. “You know,” she says breathlessly, tone like steel. “It’s not nice to do this to a person when you’re about to leave.”

He’s so astonished; he laughs, but it comes out equally devoid of air. “I’m not doing a thing.”

Her chin lifts, still worrying her lower lip. “Then…go.”

Maru’s eyes narrow; if she even had any inkling of what she was doing to him… He wasn’t even aware he’d moved closer. Seems like a whim destroys him as her thigh brushes his. “No,” he whispers.

A cluster-hot silence swims right in the small space between them, tugging Maru once more like a magnet. He doesn’t even have time to retract before her hands dive around his neck and he cups her jaw, drinking in her soft moan as her lips quickly part for his. Meisa’s warmth is instantly intoxicating as her fingers rush into his hair from the sides. He darts his tongue against hers, clutching her tighter as her breasts push up against him and as the tugging continues, his palms glide down her spine.

The bed is only centimetres away and he wants her on her back so he can feel her, taste softness, create the arch of her body, have her shuddering against him. He can feel himself growing hard from the friction of her jeans, one leg riding up on him as he rocks her against the table. She makes a helpless sound against his lips and he grabs her by the hips, mouthing her neck, tasting lingering perfume, hot skin and soap and her entire frame climbs him.

The bed cushions their fall and Meisa looks dazed for a still moment when Maru straightens, her cheeks flushed, mouth now rouged from Maru’s. He looks at her, _really_ looks at her, feels like he should offer some kind of verbal tribute to how much he wants her, moreso that she’s under him. And curiosity mixed with the feel of her makes him just want to _explore_.

“You all right?” he asks, thumbs making circles on her hips and she nods, mouth curving up as she arches perfectly, buffeting up against him, fingers running up his arms. He’ll be shaking in a moment.

“You’re quite the gentleman,” she remarks, letting him knee her legs apart. “I’m close to assuming you tackle anything that catches your eye.”

“Only if they’re armed,” he says and her head falls back in the pillows as she laughs, one hand over her mouth.

He can’t help his smile. She’s so fun. Meisa’s laughter fades and her body tenses when the heel of his palm drags over the front of her jeans, over tender spots through the fabric, index finger pulling at the button.

She’s already wriggling out of them and he unbuttons her, dragging the jeans downward as she scoots backward on the bed. Meisa is the silk he imagined she’d be, the part of her thighs as he kneels between them and how she grips his jaw when he goes in to kiss her again and marvels at the fearless, startling way she slips her tongue in his mouth, bringing Maru to frenzy with the taste and the heat as she undulates upward against his now reaching hands.

Meisa breaks away in a gasp when he slides a hand up her thigh. She utters the faintest of whimpers and his thumb brushes her clit, touching on perfect moisture; glancing against delicate skin when his fingers test pressure in circular motions. Starting slow, her hips jump forward and Maru can’t resist leaning over her, watching her reactions under him. And everything about her, in this second, drives him mad inside and out.

“God,” she hisses against his lips before he grinds downward once, moving to bite lightly on her earlobe.

Her nails start to trace raking, wonderful, lightning lines up his back when he moves up over her, the front of his trousers and the sharp angle of her hips feathering friction on his dick. He groans against her ear, still moving, drinking up the scent of her skin like it’s cream and sugar.

She leans back, eyes sliding shut as he kisses a line down her throat, other hand slipping up her tank-top, curling his fingers under the wire of her bra, just fingertips, gliding along the swell of her breast when his lips and nose reach her collarbone and Maru circles faster, holding her down with his weight as she starts to writhe.

He has to pull her up a ways so he can unhook her bra, but with his hands occupied and her fingers slipping into his trousers, gripping his ass as he presses harder, he has to use his teeth, pulling the cup out of the way, getting a mouthful of her, tonguing along a round, deep-coloured nipple. He hikes himself at a better angle, pushing a finger right into her, thumb still edging up and down the hood of her clit and the noises she’s making jolt him into delirium. He’s so hard and simply loves how she’s wrapped around him, shivering in his hands, getting wetter and wetter.

He adds another finger, flexes his wrist going down into her, swallowed by heat and the promising damp of her inside until her gasps lose their breath and her voice edges out of her in a rising cry, thighs sliding up around him, pushing him down to rut up on her thigh, his own need for more; something deeper making him growl, hissing pained, hopeful words against her chest.

“Unn; there; just—“ Her soft, staccato words hit just apostrophes as he pants his own worship against her skin.

When she tenses up, hands rushing, she threads thin pretty fingers into a handful of his hair; her thighs clench around him and Maru groans, sucking and nipping along the top of her stomach as he slides down, pinning her there. She clutches harder and the imprisonment of his hold makes her thrash, head whipping her hair over her cheek, tendrils clinging to her perspiring forehead. He ends up breathing hoarsely, sinking his fingers further in, adding his ring finger, twisting and her skin is burning with a fever-clung heat, going tighter around his hand, moisture collecting all as she goes into release, her mouth open in a silent shriek, hot palms still curled into his hair.

When she goes limp and falls back, she’s a right mess. Her eyes half-lidded, mouth open and panting, her tank-top up over her breasts and her bra pushed awry skin all bitten and covered with a sheen that’s all his doing; Maru thinks he’s never seen anything more evoking. Her hands slip downward languidly, almost affectionately, slipping to his trousers to unbutton them, pulling him up. He can’t help it, still hard and helplessly casting himself against her, pressing wet fingers to her lips, and her eyes shut, sucking and Maru’s at the peak of his destruction.

“Th-the bag,” Meisa whispers against his lips. “The pocket on the underside.”

His ability to register the meaning of this surprises even him as he slides away from her reluctantly, reaching over the side of the bed to grab her overnight bag. When he has the foil in hand, Meisa’s already behind him, strands of her hair trailing over his back as she kisses his shoulder and up his neck. She reaches around him and plucks up the condom, tearing it open. Before he knows it, she’s kissing him again, lips over the corner of his mouth, and Maru twists back, picking her up by the waist to straddle him as she massages it on him.

He loves her skin having been completely bathed in him and how it feels under his palms, gripping her hips as she rises up to settle on him. He’s euphoric when he finally feels her, the consuming heat and his head falls back against the mattress, hips rocking upward as she slides up, bracing her thighs over him. So tight that with each rock, he’s gripping her harder, bringing her down with more force. He can’t even savour each envelope of heat because he wants it fast, making it known from the way he pulls on her, hands curving over her buttocks, grinding upward again and again until she starts to moan softly, high and sweet and as his mind hits a blank, that’s all he hears. Her.

It hits him, roaring through from his stomach up and down, pooling in an electric sound-off and he pulls Meisa down against him.

 

There’s ages before he can move as her breathing slows over him, and he tucks her hair over her shoulder before smoothing his palms up and down her back. She inches up off of him, nuzzling him right against his ear. “This totally counted as fraternising with the enemy, didn’t it?” she whispers, tone raw and everything he’d be hearing in his dreams for the nights to follow.

His laugh is without energy but his chest constricts with it. He’s delirious with it; being this complacent. He considers this, brows going down sternly. “I did ambush you. On the battle front, I’ve totally taken you prisoner.”

Meisa sits up, resting on her elbows, fingers toying with his fringe, but her eyes are dark and serious. “I did take your gun; it’s within my reach.”

Still problematic. He very much likes her. “I get the impression you’re challenging me to another game…Officer Meisa.”

Her eyes narrows and while he’s gently lifting her off of him to tidy up, she abruptly startles him by pinning his arms. Her tone is low and certainly not about to take any argument. “That’s Générale to you.”


End file.
